


Ten Days

by hatethesilence312



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, Baby!Isaac, Daddy!Derek, First Kiss, Getting Together, Kid Fic, M/M, Slow Burn, baby!Boyd, daddy!stiles, toddler!Erica
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-06
Updated: 2014-06-06
Packaged: 2018-02-03 14:32:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1748009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hatethesilence312/pseuds/hatethesilence312
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek Hale does not like babies. So when his pack gets turned into babies, it’s pretty much the worst thing that could happen to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ten Days

**Author's Note:**

> So I kind of planned on writing a small oneshot about Sterek and babies (inspired by my niece) and it ended up taking like two months (I got distracted a lot) and being 18,000+ words and I do not have the time or energy to reread it checking for errors right now so there are probably so many typos, I'm sorry. I'd rather post it a little rough than have it sit in a folder on my computer for two more months. You can just comment them and let me know and I'll change them when my teachers aren't drowning me in school work.
> 
> ALSO this is the magical land where season 3 never happened, clearly, because I cannot handle those deaths. at all.

Derek Hale does not like babies. They overwhelm his senses. They reek of milk, spit, and—more frequently than he likes—pee or poop. They cry too often and too loud. They’re almost always sticky or slimy with some goo or another.

            So when his pack gets turned into babies, it’s pretty much the worst thing that could happen to him.

            A witch had been hanging out in his territory for too long and it was getting on his nerves. So he gathered Isaac, Erica, and Boyd and went to confront her. He’d tried to call Stiles, but he ignored his calls and sent back a text. Apparently he had a major test to worry about and an essay to write and ‘ _can’t risk his grades anymore to get involved in werewolf shenanigans’._ He called Scott, too, but he had a date with Allison and didn’t want to go without Stiles, anyway.

            It hadn’t gone too terribly, he hadn’t thought. Erica may have called her a hag and then she started muttering in Latin, but when they all returned to his loft safely, he figured it was nothing.

            He wakes up at 3:36 in the morning to a wailing baby and almost drops dead when he goes to where they’d crashed last night.

            The crying that woke him up is coming from a small baby who is making little fists and is red-faced. A  blonde, curly haired toddler sits up rubbed small hands against big brown eyes. A dark-skinned little boy, a bit younger than the girl toddler, sits up, too, and bursts into tears.

            “Shit,” Derek groans. He grabbed his phone and called Stiles.

            “Mm, ’lo?”

            “Stiles, I need your help.”

            “Jesus Christ, Derek do you know what time it is? Where are you? Who’s crying?”

            He glances over his shoulder. “Isaac and Boyd,” He grumbles, “Oh wait, now Erica, too.”

            “Are you drunk? Those are _babies,_ Derek, not your puppies.”

            “You know how you said you couldn’t come tonight?”

            Stiles moans. “A witch?”

            “Yes.”

            “Okay, well, what do you want me to do?”

            “Come here? I don’t know what to do!”

            “How old are they?”

            “I don’t know!” He stares at them. “Erica’s probably two? Boyd one? And Isaac is younger than that, like infancy.”

            Stiles sighs. “You’re so lucky my dad is on the graveyard shift. I’ll be there in twenty minutes. In the meantime, put Isaac against your chest, his head over your shoulder and jiggle him around until I get there. Make sure you support his head! See you soon!” Stiles hangs up and Derek groans again.

            He inches over to the babies slowly, nervously. He wraps his hands around Isaac’s torso and lifts him up a little bit, testing his weight. He puts him down quickly when Isaac’s head stays on the couch and doesn’t lift up with his body.

            _Derek does not know how to hold babies._

He leaves the room, the crying too much, his head ringing, and sits on the floor in his room, hands pressed over his ears.

            Lights flash over his head, the proximity warning going off. He shoots to his feet and sprints to get the door unlocked for Stiles.

            His arms are full of shopping bags and his hair is all over his head.

            “If someone tells my dad about my purchases I will kill you and no one will ever find the body,” He yells over the crying, shoving past Derek and into the room.

            He makes a beeline for Isaac, tugging the too-big shirt that he was in off and quickly digging through his bags until he came out with a package of diapers. He rips it open with his teeth and puts one on the screaming baby with an ease that shocked Derek. After that, he slipped him into some footsies that were too big. He slides one hand under his head, the other wraps around his torso, and he lifts him up onto his shoulder effortlessly.

            “Get me the bink out of the bag,” He says.

            Derek looks at him blankly.

            “The pacifier. Goddamn it, the thing babies suck on.”

            “I know what it is!” Derek crouches and digs through the bags—how did Stiles manage to buy so much stuff so fast?—and tears open a container of pacifiers and  puts one into the hands Stiles offered. Derek doesn’t even understand how he’s keeping the baby upright against his shoulder with one hand.

            Stiles eases the bink into Isaac’s mouth and the crying cuts off at once.

            “How did you do that?” He demands.

            “It won’t last long,” He warns. “Temporary solution. That was a hungry cry. Grab the Enfamil out of there and start boiling water. Rinse out the bottles I bought with some of the boiling water, put the nipples in it, and then read the directions on the Enfamil and make him some bottles. As fast as you can.”

            Derek quickly begins following directions while Stiles walks in circles around the loft, jiggling Isaac and rubbing his back.

            “How do you know all this?”

            “My mom used to babysit for a bunch of people around the neighborhood,” He says. “She taught me stuff while she did it. I bought some bigger diapers, too. Put them on Boyd and Erica. I don’t know if they’re trained yet at these ages and I don’t want to waste time or clothes just in case they aren’t.”

            Erica runs away when he tries, crouching in the corner with glowing yellow eyes. Boyd growls at him and leaves claw marks in a trail up his arm.           Stiles huffs impatiently.

            “Come here,” He sighs, and then shifts Isaac around, pressing him against Derek. Derek’s hands go around him automatically, and Stiles moves them so one is holding his head and the other arm is under his legs.

            “Keep walking and gently bouncing,” He orders.

            He walks over to Boyd, but stops a good foot away.

            “Hey, Boyd,” Stiles says gently. “It’s me, Stiles. Do you remember me?”

            When Boyd just looks at him with big, scared eyes, Stiles sighs. “I’m not going to hurt you, I promise. I just want to get some clothes on you and give you some milk or water, how does that sound?”

            Boyd looks a little less terrified and Stiles picks up the diaper that Derek had abandoned. “Can I put this on you?”

            Boyd doesn’t answer, so Stiles inches forward, just a little. “Can you sit down? Here,” He tugs a small blanket out of the bag and lays it down on the floor. “Sit on this. Sit down.” His voice is gentle, soothing, and Boyd sits slowly, never taking his eyes off Stiles.

            “Good boy,” Stiles smiles. “Can you lay down for me now? I promise not to hurt you, I need to put a diaper on.”

            Boyd slides onto his back, tucking his chin and whimpering. “There we go,” Stiles murmurs. “Good job. Thank you.” He lifts Boyd’s legs, slides the diaper under him, and then puts his legs down, pulls it up, and fastens the sticky things.

            “There we go. All done. You did good. You can get up now.”

            Boyd gets up quickly and flashes his eyes at Stiles once. “Can I put clothes on you, or is that too much to ask?”  

            Boyd steps back, a little wobbly, and Stiles sighs. “That’s okay. At least we got the diaper.”

            He gets up, just as Isaac spits the bink across the room and starts wailing, right into Derek’s ear. Derek cringes, whimpers, and says, “Stiles, please take him.”

            Stiles snorts and reaches out, tugging Isaac right out of Derek’s grip and putting him into the cradle of his arm. “Derek doesn’t know what he’s doing, does he? No, no he doesn’t,” Stiles says in a high, cooing voice. Isaac is still crying, but quietly now, making sad faces at Stiles. They go into the kitchen together and Stiles quickly makes a bottle, one handed, and shoves it into the microwave. “It’s not as sanitary as I would like, but he’s a werewolf, so I guess it’ll be fine,” He grumbles.

            The microwave beeps and Stiles says “Get that it.” Derek does and Stiles sticks his hand out over the sink, palm up. “Shake it and put a drop on the inside of my wrist.”

            “Why?”

            “I need to see if it’s too hot,” Stiles says, rolling his eyes.

            Derek shakes the bottle a little too forcefully, probably, and then squirts it into Stiles’ inner wrist.

            “Perfect. Go sit down,” He tells Derek, and he does. Stiles shoves Isaac carefully into one arm, and when he wails, Stiles goes, “I know, I know. It’s coming.” He hands Derek the bottle and says, “Make sure this side of the nipple is up.” And Derek slowly eases it into Isaacs mouth. Stiles shifts it around with gentle fingers on Derek’s wrists. “Make sure he doesn’t suck on air. It’ll give him hiccups and make him gassy. When he’s about half done, take the bottle away and put him on your shoulder and burp him. Oh, and here,” He ducks down, digs through the bags, and comes back with a piece of soft fabric. He tucks it under Isaac’s chin. “Put that over your shoulder first, he might spit up.”

            “Can’t you do this?” He grumbles.

            “No, I’m going to go dress your daughter,” He snaps. He grabs a diaper and an outfit and goes over, stopping a foot away from where she was still in the corner.

            “Hey, Erica. Why don’t you come out here, sweetie? I don’t want you trapped in the corner.”

            The word trapped gets her attention and she starts moving, walking out of the corner carefully, keeping her eyes on Stiles the whole time.

            “There you go. I’ve got a few juice boxes for you.”

            Her eyes go wide and she takes a tentative step toward him.

            “You’re thirsty, aren’t you? Do you like apple juice? I have grape, too, just in case, but everyone knows apple is better.”

            She walks with him over to the blanket he’d laid down for Boyd, and she sits on it and then lays down, letting him put a diaper on her quickly. Then she stands up, lets him pull her into a pair of pants and tug a shirt on over her head without any arguing.

            He reaches into a bag, pulls out a juice box, rips open the straw and stabs it in, and then hands it to her. She smiles at him and climbs onto the couch. He grabs a sippy cup and goes into the kitchen, pours some water into it, and then offers it to Boyd.

            Erica finishes her juice quickly, and Boyd doesn’t look too interested in his water, so Stiles takes each of their hands in his and takes them into Derek’s bedroom. Derek listens as he talks soothingly to them, sings them to sleep, and tucks them in.

            He comes back out a few minutes later and walks over to Derek and Isaac. “He needs to be burped now. Do you want me to do it?”

            Derek nods, because he can’t speak. This whole thing, seeing Stiles moving around his space, being so good with _his_ pack, it all feels so warm and domestic. And he never thought he would have this with anyone ever.

            Stiles eases the bottle out of Isaac’s mouth, puts it on the floor, and drapes the burp cloth over his shoulder before taking Isaac. He starts to pat his back and jiggle him.

            “You okay there, big guy?”

            Derek nods slowly. “I don’t, I just-thank you.”

            Isaac burps and Stiles laughs. “There we go, that was a good one. Yes it was. There was a big burpie in there. Are there any more?”

            He keeps jiggling Isaac until he starts fussing and sounding unhappy. Then he shifts him around, grabs the bottle, and continues feeding him. “There we go,” He murmurs. Good boy.”

            “You’re really good with them.”

            Stiles smiles at Derek. “I like babies.”

            “ _Why_?”

            He shrugs. “I know they’re messy and loud but there’s something just so _good_ about them,” He smiles. “I feel like they represent everything good in the world. They’re so innocent. They’ve never felt pain, they don’t want to hurt anyone. They have no ulterior motives, they just want to exist. And I mean, come on. They’re really cute.”

            Derek just stares at him. “They hurt my head. And they smell.”

            Stiles laughs. “Yeah, well, I don’t know if I would feel the way I do if I had super senses, but,” He shrugs. “So you’re never gonna have kids, then?”

            Derek looks at him blankly. “Who would I have kids with?”

            “I don’t know. You don’t have to know yet, either. But what if you fall in love?”

            “I’m not going to fall in love.”

            “You don’t know that!”

            “I _do_ know that.”

            Stiles’ face looks sad when he meets Derek’s gaze. “You’re not being fair to yourself, Derek. You deserve to be happy. You deserve to love and be loved.”

            “I’ve tried that before, Stiles. And it’s gone terribly wrong every time.”

            “That doesn’t mean it’ll _keep_ going wrong.”

            “I can’t risk it. The first time I fell in love, she died. The second time, my entire family died. If this is a trend, I’m the one dying next time.”

            Stiles comes over and sits down beside him on the couch. “If you want, I’ll do background checks on whoever you want to date.”

            “I don’t want to date anyone, Stiles. I don’t want to have to add anyone else to list of people I trust and don’t want to die, okay?”

            Stiles nods, pulling the empty bottle out of Isaac’s mouth, shifting him onto his shoulder  with the burp cloth again. He begins patting his back gently, easing out another burp. He keeps him there for a few more minutes and then says, softly, “Is he asleep?”

            Derek twists around to look at his shoulder. “Yeah.”

            Stiles nods and then gets up.

            “Lay down,” He orders, and Derek is too tired to argue. Stiles leans down and carefully places sleeping Isaac against Derek’s chest. He squirms and then seems to settle, his head resting on his hands on top of Derek’s heart.  “I’m going to go make a few bottles and stick them in the fridge so we’re prepared in the morning.

            Derek nods and watches Stiles go. He listens to him move around in the kitchen for a few minutes, and then he comes back and smiles at Derek. “Should I stay?”

            Derek nods frantically. “You can’t _leave._ I have no idea what I’m doing!”

            Stiles holds his hands out. “Calm down. It’s fine, I’ll stay.”

            He steps out of his shoes and  grabs the blanket that had fallen to the foot of the couch when his betas had turned into babies. He reaches out and shifts Isaac over on Derek’s chest and nudges Derek over a little bit, then he squeezes himself onto the edge of the couch, draping most of his body on top of Derek’s, his head on Derek’s chest next to Isaac. He covers the three of them with the blanket.

            “Goodnight, Derek,” He breathes and there’s something so easy about this, the way Derek’s arm wraps automatically around Stiles’ waist, the other hand coming up to rest against Isaac’s back. It feels natural  and right, and for the first time in his life, Derek wonders if maybe having kids of his own is _really_ such a bad idea.

*          *          *

            Derek wakes up when he feels Stiles shift against him. He opens his eyes. Erica is standing there, sucking her thumb and tugging at Stiles’ hair with her other hand.

            “Alright, alright, I’m up,” He grumbles quietly.  “What’s up, sweetie?”

            She takes her thumb out of her mouth long enough to say “I’m hungry”.

            Stiles eases himself off of Derek and the couch and crouches down in front of her, gently pulling her hand away from her mouth.  “Don’t do that,” He says. “It’s a bad habit.”

            When he notices that Derek is raising his eyebrows at him, he shrugs and stands up. “What? You can take pacifiers away, but you can’t take her thumbs away.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. “It’s 7:45.” He announces before Derek can ask. “And I have three missed calls from my dad. Sh—oot. Shoot.”

            Erica reaches up and tugs at the hem of his shirt. He looks down at her and she makes _come here_ gestures with her hand, so he ducks down. She leans in close to whisper in his ear and Derek is a little nervous, because she’s very close to Stiles’ throat and is far too young to have mastered much control.

            “I gotta go potty,” She whispers and Stiles pulls back and stands up. He offers her his hand and she takes it and he says “We’ll be right back,” to Derek before taking her down the hallway.

            Unfortunately, the instant the bathroom door closes, Isaac flinches against Derek’s chest and starts wailing.

            Derek tenses because he does not know what to do and Stiles is busy and he doesn’t want to trade places with him either because he doesn’t know anything about taking little girls to the bathroom either so he just holds Isaac in place as gently as he can and stands slowly. When he doesn’t drop him, he starts swaying and walking and jiggling and trying everything Stiles did yesterday.

            And it _works._

Isaac is still whimpering, but the wailing has stopped. He does that until Stiles comes back with Erica, looking cautious. “You didn’t kill him, did you?”

            Derek glared. “ _No._ I just gave the whole _jiggling_ thing you suggested a try.”

            Stiles grins. “Well, it’s been like four hours since his last bottle, he’s hungry. I’m not sure how old he is, so I gave him four ounces. He could easily be ready for five, but I’m going to keep giving him four because I don’t want to waste formula. This shi—stuff is expensive.”

            “Are you really avoiding cursing? Stiles, they’re all teenagers.”

            “They don’t know that, though! They appear to have lost all memory from their lives before last night.” He sticks a bottle in the microwave and crouches in front of Erica. “What do you want for breakfast, sweetie?”

            “Pancakes,” She says at once and Stiles nods.

            “I can make them,” Derek says quickly. “You feed the baby.”

            Stiles snorts. “I can’t believe you’re so afraid of babies. Big Bad Derek will stare death in the face, but hand him an _infant…_ ”

            Derek glares at him. “I am not _afraid_ of babies. I’m just not good with them.”

            “Mmhmm,” Stiles snorts. “And my dad’s not the sheriff; he’s just a normal police officer.” He reaches out anyway and takes Isaac into his own arms. “Your daddy’s silly,” He tells him and Derek sighs.

            “I’m not their dad, Stiles.”

            Stiles turns to him and smiles. “Yeah, but you’re the closest thing to a parent they have.”

            He takes the bottle out of the microwave, hands it to Derek, and sticks his arm out. Derek shakes it and drips it on his wrist. Stiles takes it and puts it in Isaac’s mouth. “Is it wrong that I like Isaac better this way?”

            Derek raises his eyebrows as he begins making the pancakes. “Why?”

            Stiles shrugs. “He’s annoying. Following Scott around like a lost puppy, making heart eyes at Allison.” He shrugs again. “I have a bone-deep need to protect Scott, you know? That’s what happens after a lifetime of friendship. And Isaac makes that hard. Because I just know this is going to end badly and Scott’s going to get hurt. He’s going to make a move on Allison and she might actually get together with him and Scott… Scott still thinks they’re soul mates. And what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t believe him? So I’m just holding out hope that Allison comes to her senses and gets back together with Scott and Isaac doesn’t wander around looking like a _kicked_ puppy instead of a lost one. But I can’t warn Scott, because they’re friends, you know? He’d just get mad at me for trying to ruin their friendship.”

            Derek nods because he _does_ know. He’s noticed the way Isaac smells when Allison’s name comes up in conversation, the way his heart beats a little faster, his cheeks flushing.

            “I could make him stay away, I guess,” Derek says slowly. “But that’d be wrong. I’d be taking away his freedom and making him unhappy and I don’t want to do that.”

            “So don’t,” Stiles says to his back. “You never have to do anything you don’t want to, Der.”

            Derek’s throat threatens to close up. “I-thanks. I mean, I know.”

            By the time Stiles has finished feeding and has started burping the baby, the pancakes are done, Erica is working on oversized stack he gave her, and Boyd is crying and toddling into the room.

            Derek panics, the way he always does when someone’s crying. He doesn’t deal with his _own_ emotions well. Dealing with someone else’s is even worse.

            His wailing upsets Isaac and soon he’s screaming too and Stiles glares at Derek. “Pick him up!”

            “I don’t know _how,”_ he snaps. “I don’t—like—is he—”

            “Oh for God’s sake. Grab him under his arms and stick him on your hip.”

            Derek reaches out cautiously toward Boyd, and earns a hiss and a whimper for his efforts.

            “Oh my _god,”_ Stiles complains, going over to Derek and thrust Isaac out for him. “Get a burp out of this baby.”

            Derek frowns again and carefully takes Isaac and puts him on his shoulder. He rocks back and forth slowly and cautiously puts a hand on his back and begins patting.

            Stiles crouches down in front of Boyd and puts his hands out. He keeps a safe foot between them. “Want to get a sniff? Remember me from last night? Squishy, defenseless human? Come here, bud.”

            Boyd takes a nervous step towards Stiles and Stiles smiles. “Good boy. Come on.”

            Boyd wobbles forward toward him, seeming a little scared but once he gets within reach, he stops. Stiles makes no move to touch him, just sits there, hands out, and waits. He takes another unsteady step toward Stiles and leaned in and took a long breath in through his nose. His heart slows down just a little bit and he stop giving off waves of anxiety. Clearly Stiles was right. The scent made him remember Stiles taking care of him last night.

            He closed the distance between them, stepping between Stiles’ waiting hands. Stiles tucked them under his arms and stood up, bringing Boyd with him. He easily shifted him over, sitting him on a hip and wraps his arm around him. He goes into the kitchen and starts cooking with his free hand.

            “What are you doing?”

            “Boyd needs breakfast too. I’m making him a pancake.”

            “Just the one?”

            “It’s going to take me long enough to cut that up and feed it to him.”

            “He’s a _werewolf._ He naturally burns more calories and requires more food.”

            Stiles glares. “We only need to hold him off long enough to get him to Deaton’s. Speaking of which, I need to figure out _how_ we’re getting them there.”

            “What do you mean?”

            Stiles snorts. “You can’t just stick small children in a car and drive. Especially when you’re driving with the Sheriff’s son. We need car seats.”

            Derek grimaces. “I really don’t want to spend all this money on baby supplies when they’re— _hopefully—_ only temporary babies.”

            Stiles sighs. “Call Deaton and get him here instead, then.”

            All of a sudden, there’s a terrible smell coming from Isaac and he starts wailing.

            “Stiles,” Derek chokes out. “Put Boyd down. I’ll make the pancake. You change Isaac’s diaper.”

            Stiles glares at him. “Really? Don’t be pathetic. It’s a bodily function. You poop too, you know.”

            Derek meets his glare. “You don’t have an enhanced sense of smell.”

            “Aw, poor sensitive werewolf can’t handle a baby’s diaper?” Stiles rolls his eyes but turns to put Boyd down. Boyd tugs his legs up, though, when Stiles tries to stand him up, and makes a whimpering noise. Stiles groans and says, “Switch kids with me,” and thrusts Boyd out, into Derek’s arms, grabbing Isaac at the same time. Derek grabs Boyd under the arms and holds him out, away from his body. Boyd’s too big to really be held against his chest like an infant.

            “How do I…?”

            “Your hip,” Stiles says as he kneels on the floor and puts Isaac on a changing pad. He gets a diaper and a packet of wipes out and takes a deep breath. Derek carefully eases Boyd onto his hip, wrapping his arm around his back to support him. Then he turns to the stove as Stiles begins changing the diaper.

            He’s flipping the pancake over and making sure Boyd doesn’t try to reach for the stove again—Derek nearly had a heart attack and leapt away from the stove as fast as he could—when he hears Stiles finish up buttoning Isaac’s footsies. Stiles gets up and then his heart beat lurches and Derek’s head snaps around. “What’s wrong?”  
            Stiles smiles tensely and shakes his head. “Nothing is _wrong._ It’s just a nice sight, is all. You, barefoot in sweats with a baby on your hip, making breakfast. Very domestic.”

            Derek raises his eyebrows. “Are you suggesting I’d be a good house-husband?”

            Stiles made a face “ _God,_ no. You can’t even change a diaper. I just think this is nice. That you deserve a life like this, someday. You know?”

            Warmth flutters through Derek’s chest. Stiles is just full of nice things to say to him now.

            “Except, I guess that’s kind of rude of me. Since this isn’t a life you want. I just think,” he shrugs, “that you could be a really great dad. I guess.”

            Derek stares at him for a minute, watching the blush work its way across Stiles’ cheekbones to his ears.

            “You’re going to burn his breakfast,” He tells Derek, looking away.

            Derek turns around and flips the pancake onto a plate. He shuts off the stove and puts the plate on the table.

            Stiles grins at him. “I’m so proud of you. Having a working stove and a kitchen table like a _real boy.”_

Derek just glares.

            “Hang on a sec,” Stiles says, taking Erica’s empty plate away. He wipes and dries the table, then lays out a blanket over that half and lays Isaac down on it, putting a bink in his mouth. He hands Erica a toy truck and then sits down. “Do you want Boyd on your lap or mine?” He asks.

            Derek frowns at the question because he has no idea. Stiles rolls his eyes. “Sit down with him on your lap. I’ll cut up the pancake and feed it to him.”

            Derek sits down and carefully rearranges Boyd so that he’s in his lap. Stiles begins cutting the pancake into miniature bites and putting a small dab of syrup in the corner of the plate. He stabs a piece and blows on it before dipping the corner into the syrup and offering to Boyd. He opened his mouth and Stiles pushed it in.

            It takes a long time to feed him, and Stiles alternates between giving Boyd bites, cooing at Isaac and making sure he doesn’t kick himself off the table, and checking on Erica and the toy truck that she is currently ripping to pieces.

            When he finishes, he sticks the plate in the sink and pulls his phone back out of his pocket. He sighs and dials a number, pressing it against his ear as it rings.

            “Oh, would you look who decided to return my calls,” The Sheriff’s voice sounds bitter and sour. “Want to tell me why you weren’t here when I got home and you aren’t in school today?”

            Stiles scratches absentmindedly at his eyebrow. “Well, you see there’s an, um, issue.”

            “Define issue.”

            “Derek’s pack got turned into small children?”

            There’s a long pause and then the Sheriff lets out a long breath. “How, exactly, did that happen?”

            “He pissed off a witch.”

            There’s another pause, and Derek can _see_ the way Stiles’ dad would be closing his eyes and massaging his temples. Ever since they explained the whole _mythological creatures are real_ thing to him, he’s been making an effort to stay calm and to believe the things Stiles tells him and to react reasonably. He’s just having a difficult time figuring out what reaction is reasonable.

            “Don’t you think,” he says slowly, “that Derek should deal with the repercussions of his choices by himself?”

            “Absolutely not,” Stiles says at once. “I mean, Derek is perfectly responsible and all, but he doesn’t have to do everything by himself. We’re a _pack,_ Dad. That’s what packs _do._ They make sure no one else in the pack is alone. And anyway, Derek is _clueless_ when it comes to babies. Seriously. If I left him to take care of these babies by himself, they’d probably be dead right now. Or just screaming hysterically. Like, if I wasn’t here, you’d be arresting him for child cruelty.”

            Derek grimaces because it’s probably true.

            “How long do you think they’ll be this way?”

            Stiles sighs. “I have no idea. I need to get Deaton over here.”

            “Well, um, call me later and let me know how long this will take. I guess I’ll bring you some clothes and stuff over if it seems like it’ll be this way for a while. And if you need help, call me and I’ll come over.”

            “ _You?”_

“I did raise a kid once you know.”

            “Yeah, no, I didn’t mean that as in _you_ want to take care of a _kid_ I meant it as more of a _you_ want to _help_ take care of _Derek Hale’s_ pack?”

            He sighs heavily. “If you’re involved, so am I.”

            “It doesn’t have to be that way, I can handle this.”

            “I’m sure that’s true. But still, if you need help, I have a little more experience with babies and children than you.”

            “Okay, yeah, I get that. I’ll call if I need anything. And I’ll let you know what Deaton says.”

            “I’ll stop by his place on my way to the station and send him your way.”

            “You’re going back in? Didn’t you work all night?”

            “They need me to help out with some paper work. A file is messed up or something. I promise I’ll get some sleep later.”

            “Alright,” Stiles says cautious. “Be careful.”

            “Always,” His dad says before the line clicks off.

            “I’m just gonna text Scott real fast and let him know what’s going on and then I’m good,” he says, thumbs pounding at his phone for a minute or two and then he flicks the sound on and slides it into his pocket.

            “Hey baby boy,” He coos at Isaac. “You like me so much better like this, don’t you?”

            Isaac beams at him for a second, and then his face scrunches up and he sneezes. “Uh oh! Bless you!” Stiles says, his voice high as he boops Isaac’s nose.

            Isaac hiccups and a large stream of white comes from the corners of his mouth.

            “Sh--oot,” Stiles says, hurrying to grab the burp cloth from where he’d discarded it earlier and begins wiping frantically at Isaac’s mouth and clothes and the blanket underneath it. “Come _on,_ buddy, I only bought a couple of outfits!”

            He picks him up and the motion of being lifted makes more white come from his mouth. Stiles makes an annoyed noise, sticking him in the cradle of an arm so he can mop at his face with his other hand.

            “What’s wrong with him?” Derek demands, frowning.

            “Nothing,” Stiles says. “A lot of babies spit up when they lay flat after a bottle. Their bodies are too small to digest all the formula right away so it kinda sits in their chests and laying flat pushes it out their mouths.”

            “How do you _know_ all this?”

            “Like I said, my mom used to babysit and I was around. She knew everything there was to know about babies. Loved kids. She wanted a big family. I would’ve had siblings, but,” He shrugs and avoids looking at Derek, laying Isaac on the couch and pulling him out of his pajamas. “Well, you know.”

            “Yeah, Derek says, reaching out to wrap one of Erica’s curls around his finger as she plays with the dismantled toy car at his feet. “I had two sisters. Laura and Cora.  Peter lived with us, though, with his wife and their three kids. It was always so loud. I used to lock myself in my room and put headphones on and read all day,” Derek says, frowning a little. If only he could go back, spend more time with his family. If only he had known how limited their time together would be.

            “Really? You were a bookworm? I don’t know, I sorta pictured you as an athlete. A total showoff.”

            Derek shrugs but Stiles still isn’t looking at him, digging around and pulling out another pair of fuzzy pajamas that he begins wrestling a squirming Isaac into.

            “When I was really little, I wasn’t allowed to play sports with other humans, my control wasn’t strong enough. Then I got a little older and found an anchor and I loved basketball. My aim was flawless. I could shoot from across the gym and not even need the backboard. But people asked a lot of questions, you know. Winning and showing off gets old really fast, too. There was nothing remotely challenging about it, so I lost interest.”

            “That makes sense. I’m not judging you for the bookworm thing, don’t get your back up. I am too. You don’t really have a choice when you’re an only child. Your entertainment choices are limited. And my mom used to _adore_ books. She read to me before bed every night and whenever I got upset and she would quote books to me all the time. She called me Superman, too. That’s why I got into comic books and stuff.”

            “Why did she call you Superman?”

            “I was always trying to fly. Tied blankets around my shoulders and leapt from trees and rooftops and sofas. I got hurt a couple of times, of course, when I jumped from trees and roofs and stuff. She would pick me up and carry me to the car and say, ‘ _Listen Superman, you can’t keep doing that stuff. You’re gonna give Mommy heart failure. You’ll grow your wings one day, and when that day comes, you’ll know it. Today wasn’t that day.’”_ His voice is rough and thick with tears, and he picks Isaac up, cradles him against his chest as he continues. “I was there when she died. The last thing she said to me was ‘ _Don’t lose hope. Your wings are on their way, Superman. Never stop trying to fly.’_ I think I’m going to get that last part tattooed on me, somewhere, when I turn eighteen. _Never stop trying to fly._ It’s like the complete opposite of what most parents teach you, ya know? She never told me I couldn’t do anything. She always encouraged me to keep trying.”

            Something was squeezing Derek’s chest and he took a deep breath to try to clear the lump from his throat. “She sounds like she was really wonderful.”

            Stiles looks at him, then, with a weak smile on his face. “She was. I’m still waiting on my wings. Maybe once I get them, I’ll be able to keep up with the wolves.”He wiggles his eyebrows, trying to lighten the mood.

            “My mom was an alpha and my dad was human. Did you know that?”

            Stiles shakes his head, sitting down beside Derek, rubbing Isaac’s back and he falls asleep.

            “Yeah. Peter married a human, too. Two of his kids were human.”

            “ _Really?”_ Stiles’ eyes widen. “That’s _possible?_ So the werewolf genes aren’t dominant, then?”

            “It is,” Derek says, “But sometimes things happen.”

            Stiles nods slowly. “Huh. I feel bad for his human kids. God, they must have felt so _useless.”_

“We did everything we could to make sure they _didn’t_ feel that way. My mom was a firm believer that humans and werewolves are equally important in a pack. They tend to be more levelheaded, she used to say, that they wouldn’t be triggered by the same things and would be able to team up to calm down a room full of angry wolves.”

            “Did that ever happen?”

            “A couple of times,” Derek nods. “Once, an omega trespassed in our territory and was blatantly disrespecting our land. Werewolves are really territorial, so all of us were enraged. It doesn’t help that betas tend to feed off of their alpha’s emotions and the omega threatened my father. My mom was ready to rip the thing limp from limp and we were ready to help. My dad had grabbed her and calmed her down and Peter’s wife got him under control and my cousins worked on me and Cora—no one attempted to touch Laura, she had a wild temper—and then we would all just relax and eventually Laura would settle.”

            Stiles presses his bare foot to the side of Derek’s thigh. He should want to shove it off, get Stiles out of his space, and he’s not sure when that stopped being how he reacts to Stiles, but now he just relaxes at the touch, lets himself be reassured.

            “Can I tell you something?”

            “Of course,” Derek says quickly.

            “You’re doing okay. I know you think you’re a terrible alpha because you’ve made mistakes, but so has everyone else. Nothing about what you’re doing is easy, and I get that. I think you’re doing great. Even if your pack got turned into a bunch of babies and you know nothing about childcare. You did the right thing by calling me, and everything is going to be okay. The only person blaming you for the things that have gone wrong is _you.”_

Derek is frozen, staring blankly at Stiles because it’s been a long time since anyone has been this kind to him without wanting something in return.

            He is saved from having to reply by the proximity alarm going off. “That must be Deaton.” He starts to get up, sliding Boyd off his legs along the way, but Stiles’ arm shoots out and grabs his wrist.

            “It would be physically impossible for my dad to get from my house to Deaton’s and to have Deaton get here this quickly, even if he left immediately after my dad spoke to him.”

            Derek tenses and then moans. “I really, _really_ can’t afford to be attacked right now. Not when my betas are so vulnerable!”

            Stiles rearranges Isaac so he is cradled in one arm, and he grabs Boyd’ s hand with his other. “Come on, Erica, sweetie, we are going to go play in the bedroom.” He jerks his head and Derek follows him.          

            “I am going to lay them in your bed and stand in front of it with a steak knife,” Stiles says simply, “while you figure out who the hell is at the door.”

            Derek nods and hurries out of the room while Stiles begins laying them down on the bed. He grabs the sharpest knife he has and offers it to Stiles. “Please don’t hurt yourself.”

            Stiles nods once and Derek leaves the room, heading to the doors, letting his eyes glow red, teeth elongate, and nails sharpen.

            He throws open the door and drops into a crouch, a growl deep in his throat and—

            “ _Jesus Christ!”_ Scott shouts, jumping away from Derek.

            Derek relaxes, standing upright and yelling “It’s only Scott!”

            Stiles comes back a moment later, putting the knife away and then he flashes Scott a brief smile. “Hey, man. I’ll be right back, I need to get Isaac upright before he spits up all over his outfit and Derek’s bed.”

            Scott watches him walk back toward the bedroom in confusion. “His dad called me and told me what happened. I didn’t think it was _true,”_ he says, as Stiles comes back, Isaac cradled in one arm, Boyd on the other hip, Erica half behind him, eyes glowing, both hands fisted in the hem of Stiles’ shirt.

            Boyd growls at Scott and shrinks in closer to Stiles, pressing his face—yellow-eyed and all—into Stiles’ neck. It makes Derek a little nervous—who knows what his control is like and that is Stiles’ _throat—_ but Stiles just turns his head and presses a kiss to the top of Boyd’s head. “It’s okay,” He soothes. “It’s just my friend Scott. He won’t hurt you. Promise.”

            Derek goes over and holds his hands out for Boyd, a warm pleased feeling going through his chest when, after a moment of hesitation, Boyd leans forward and allows himself to be pulled out of Stiles’ arms and into Derek’s.

            Erica tugged on Stiles shirt again and he sighed. “One second, sweetie.” He moved across the room, spreading the blanket back out over the table and laying Isaac down on it. “Please don’t spit up,” He mutters, before bending down and grabbing Erica under the arms. He slides one arm under her butt and holds her against his chest while she wraps her legs around his waist and presses her face into his neck, taking deep breaths of his scent.

            “Look, Scott, man, as much as I appreciate a visit, unless you come with a solution to turn them back into teenagers, this really isn’t a good time. They’re not really inclined to trust anyone right now.”

            “They seem to trust you.”

            “Yeah, well, I came bearing clothes and food and I actually know what I’m doing, at least a little.”

            Scott walks over to the table and looks over at Isaac. “He’s so cute.”

            Erica hisses and Stiles yelps. “Watch the claws!”                      

            Derek snarls angrily and Erica cringes, her nails retracting and she lets out a sob and starts crying into Stiles’ neck. Stiles gives Derek a _good going_ look and then sighs. “Scott, you need to leave. They don’t trust you and they’re going to be upset enough when Deaton gets here. Call next time, okay?”

            “Why are you doing this?” Scott asks. “They aren’t your children.”

            “Maybe not, but they’re my pack,” Stiles says, rubbing Erica’s back and kissing her hair. “It’s okay, sweetheart, you didn’t hurt me. Daddy didn’t mean to yell, it’s okay.”

            Scott is shaking his head, now, and he smells like anger. “What do you mean, _they’re your pack?_ You’re not in Derek’s pack, Stiles. You’re in mine.”

            Stiles groans. “Oh, just get over it! You’re a beta. Derek’s an alpha with a pack. They may be a little rag-tag but at least they _are_ a pack. At this point, you’re an omega. Do you know what happens to omegas? They _die._ Would you really rather die than be a part of Derek’s pack? Because he’s not a bad guy once you get past the leather and brooding eyebrows.”

            Derek feels his eyebrows furrow and quickly forces them to smooth out. Stiles gives him a knowing look.

            “I can’t believe you’re taking his side!” Scott snaps. “You _hate_ Derek!”

            “If you’d pay attention to anything other than your failing romance with Allison for five minutes, you’d know that’s not true, and it hasn’t been true for a really long time.”

            “I can’t believe you,” Scott turned and headed out the door. “Don’t call me when this goes terribly wrong!”

            “I won’t! You never answer anyway!”

            The door slams and Stiles slumps.

            Derek reached out and carefully took Erica from his arms, putting her down on the floor. She moved to go sit next to where Derek had placed Boyd on the couch.

            Derek slowly put a hand on Stiles’ shoulder. “You okay?”

            Stiles runs both hands through his hair. “He’s wrong, you know. I don’t hate you.”

            “I know that,” Derek says gently. “Are you alright? Why don’t I get you some water? You’ve had a rough night, too…” He guides Stiles over to a chair, just in time, too, because Stiles’ breath starts coming in short gasps as soon as he’s sitting.

            “Stiles,” Derek crouches between his knees. “Stiles, breathe with me, okay? In and out, come on.”

            They sat there taking deep breaths together for an immeasurable about of time before Stiles turns and folds his arms on the table, puts his forehead down against them.

            Derek gets up and quickly pours him a glass of water. He nudges Stiles’ shoulder with his knuckles. “Drink this.”

            Stiles listens, which sort of shocks Derek. Once he finishes the water, he gets up and puts the cup in the sink. “I’m alright. I just—I don’t handle fights with Scott well. Sorry. I know, it’s pathetic—”

            “It’s not pathetic, and you never have to apologize for having a panic attack, Stiles.”

            Stiles sighs a little bit and then the proximity alarm is going off again.

            “That,” He says, “It’s probably Deaton.”

            He scoops Isaac up and goes into the other room, sitting on the couch with Erica and Boyd. “Guys,” He says while Derek heads for the door. “Dr. Deaton is here. He might need to touch you guys or ask you some questions. Erica, can you answer some? Please? I’ll be right here and he won’t hurt you, I promise.”

            “Okay, Daddy,” She says and Derek’s heart twists in his chest a little because the past twenty four hours are painting an extremely vivid picture of what his life would be like if he had kids with Stiles.

            And it’s starting to look like a life he’d be interested in.

            He opens the door and Deaton steps inside. “I hear we have witch problems.”

            His presence must make Erica uneasy because she leans into Stiles’ side.

            “Derek,” Stiles says. “Come take the baby.”

            He goes over and Stiles puts Isaac in the hook of Derek’s arm. Then he shifts, pulling Erica up and into his lap. He folds his hands over her stomach and she presses her hands firmly over his, holding him in place. After a second of thought, he shifts her over to one leg and sits Boyd on the other, arms stretching to wrap around both of them.

            Deaton watches this happen with his eyebrows raised. “Stiles,” He says. “You father told me you were helping Derek take care of his pack since they got turned into babies. I wasn’t expecting things to be going so smoothly.”

            Stiles shrugs. “I have some experience with kids.”

            “Interesting,” He moves deeper into the room slowly, allowing the betas to adjust to his nearness, “Seeing as you are an only child and Derek is the one with siblings.”

            Stiles’ eyes flick to Derek and he finds himself moving forward, quickly, dropping down onto the couch beside Stiles. It’s different, talking about his family to Stiles when it’s just them, than having Deaton bring them up casually in conversation. Stiles absently moves his leg over, brushes his foot against Derek’s. Derek hooks their ankles together, taking comfort in the touch.

            “Yeah, well.” Stiles looks at him tensely. “What do we do to make them teenagers again?”

            He turns to Derek. “Do they smell strange?”

            Derek wrinkles his nose. “They smell like babies.”

            “Does anything smell _off,_ though. If I brought you a normal human baby, would it smell any different than them?”

            “Um, not that I know of,” Derek says cautiously. “I mean, aside from _their_ scent.”

            “They don’t smell of herbs or spices?”

            “No.”

            “Then this is likely something that just has to run its course. It’s likely a temporary curse and it’ll fade with time.”

            “How _much_ time are we talking here?” Derek asks, grabbing a pacifier from the table when Isaac makes a sad face. “I definitely can’t do this alone, and I can’t keep Stiles here for any extensive amount of time. He needs to go to school.”

            “I can’t say for sure, it depends on the witch’s strength. I would say anywhere from seven to ten days, though.”

            Stiles jerks forward in his seat. “Seven to ten _days?_ Are you _sure?”_

Boyd starts wailing at his upset tone and Stiles quickly takes a deep breath and rubs his hand up and down Boyd’s arm. “It’s okay, bud, you’re okay.”

            “I’m sorry. I know it’s inconvenient, but there’s nothing I can do to speed it up.”

            Stiles sighs. “Thanks, I guess. For coming out. Although if you knew that was going to be the outcome, you could have just called.”

            Deaton smiles. “And missed the opportunity to see the town’s teen wolves as babies? I must be going now. If after ten days they don’t change back, come find me.”

            They agree and Deaton leaves and Stiles sighs and picks up his phone.

            “Hello?”

            “Hey, Dad. So, um, the kids are stuck like this for up to ten days, so I think I’ll be staying here for a while. I’ll find a way to go to school anyway, though, but now we need to go shopping, bad. Do you happen to have my old car seats? Can you bring them over if you do? Because otherwise I’m gonna need to give you a list.”

            “ _Ten_ days? _Ten?”_

“Yes, Dad, ten days. That’s what I said, come on, keep up.”

            “Alright, give me fifteen minutes and I’ll go home and dig around the garage and attic.”

            “Thanks,” Stiles says. “Gimme a call and let me know what you find.”

            “Will do.”

            Stiles hung up and turned to Derek. “Okay, we need a plan.”

            “A plan,” Derek repeats.

            “Yes. Because today is Friday so I can hang around here all weekend, no problem. But come Monday, I need to go back to school. I can’t miss an entire week of school.”

            Derek grimaces. _This is what you get for surrounding yourself in teenagers,_ he thinks bitterly.

            “So here’s what we’ll do. My dad will either come bring us car seats, or we’ll send him shopping. Either way, we’ll end up with diapers, formula, and a pack-and-play thing. It’ll have an insert for infants that Isaac will sleep in and Boyd will sleep in the bottom part. Erica will take the bed with me or the both of us, depending on what you’re comfortable with. I definitely earned the bed, though, because I’m here. I don’t mind sharing. You don’t have to take the couch unless you’re uncomfortable being in a bed with me. It’s fine.”

            “We spent last night asleep on the same couch. We can handle a bed.”

            “Okay. And then I’ll leave you a list of things to do if certain things happen and I’ll give you my dad’s number and Melissa McCall’s. They’ll both be willing to help, I’m pretty sure. You know my number. You can text me if things go wrong. I can’t guarantee I’ll reply right away, but I’ll get back to you as fast as I can. After school, I’ll grab dinner for us and come over.”

            Derek frowns. “Okay, I just—three kids by myself?”

            “We have all weekend to make you good at this.”

            “Stiles!”

            Stiles pries Isaac out of his arms slowly and lays him on his blanket on the floor.

            “Shh, it’s okay. You’ll get the hand of it enough to be alone for six hours, it’s okay.”

            He can feel something tightening in his chest at the thought. He imagines the screaming he heard before Stiles got there and his heart lurches uncomfortably.

            “Hey, hey, shh,” Stiles moves toward him, grabs his face in his hands. “Hey. It’ll be alright. I promise.” The thumb of one hand traces under Derek’s eye while his other hand reaches out and begins tracing his fingertips along Derek’s palm. “Breathe.”

            Derek focuses on Stiles’ heart and breathing, his nearness, his touch, and feels his teeth and nails return to human. He’d shifted without even realizing it. And Stiles hadn’t run away, hadn’t cringed back. He had reached out, instead. Derek’s chest squeezes for an entirely different reason.

            “You good?” Stiles asks, thumb moving, tracing Derek’s eyebrow and cheekbones.

            Derek nods. “Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry.”

            “Hey.” He interlaces their fingers and squeezes. “It’s alright. Never apologize for being afraid of things, okay? We’ll get through this.”

            Derek takes a deep breath again and nods, squeezing Stiles’ fingers back.

            “Daddy,” Erica comes over and tugs Stiles’ shirt. “Juice.”

            “Juice?” Stiles says brightly, switching moods so fast Derek wonders if someone can get emotional whiplash.

            Stiles goes over to Derek’s fridge and pulls out a juice box that he doesn’t remember seeing him put in there. He opens the straw and puts it in for Erica and then says “Careful. Don’t squeeze it.” And she takes it gingerly in her hands and takes a sip before putting it on the country and picking up the wheel that she had ripped off the toy car and sat down, rolling it back and forth in front of her on the floor.

            Stiles begins making bottles—“So next time he gets hungry we can just shove them in the microwave and not have to make an entire bottle”—and Derek begins chasing Boyd around the loft because he’d apparently warmed up to them enough to turn into a real toddler. Isaac naps obliviously on his blanket on the floor. Derek saves him from being stepped on by Boyd twice.

            It’s a little less than after Deaton left, Derek estimates, that Stiles’ phone rings and the Sheriff announces that he found an infant car seat and a booster seat and that he’s on his way.

            “Okay,” Stiles says. “Erica’s too young to legally be without a car seat, but it’s fine, my dad’s the Sheriff and she’s a werewolf. Just don’t make any sudden stops or sharp turns and don’t push the speed limit and we’ll be fine.”

            When the Sheriff gets there, Derek lets him in while Stiles tries to reassure the kids. “It’s

Grandpa,” He said. “You don’t have to be afraid of Grandpa.”

            “Stiles,” He moans, putting the car seats down as Derek shuts the door behind him. “Don’t do that.”

            “Do what?”

            “Call me Grandpa. Let them think of you as a dad. Get attached.”

            Stiles refuses to look at him and Derek can tell that there’s something deeper there, something he doesn’t know about. “Look, kid, I can’t stay, but if you need anything, you call okay? Oh, and I brought you some clothes.”

            Stiles nods. “Alright. I’ll, um, call you later.”

            Derek deliberately walks over and scoops Isaac up from his spot on the floor as they hug each other. Something about it feels private and he doesn’t want to invade.

            A firm hand clamps down on Derek’s shoulder and he flinches. “Hang in there, son,” The Sheriff says.

            The nickname is like taking a stab to the chest, and it always is, no matter how many times Stiles’ dad does it. He closes his eyes, holds Isaac closer.  “Thanks, Sir.”

            “You don’t have to call me that anymore,” He reminds him and Derek swallows.

            “Okay.”

            “If either of you need anything, I’m a phone call away.”

            “Okay,” Stiles and Derek say in unison.

            “Actually, Derek, I’ll show you how to hook those car seats up, come on.”

            Derek hands Isaac to Stiles, grabs his car keys and the car seat while the Sheriff takes the booster and they walk outside together.

            “Stiles doesn’t do things half-assed,” He says after a moment. “He gives nothing or he gives everything.”

            Derek frowns because this sounds a _lot_ like a conversation between an overprotective father and their child’s boyfriend.

            “I’m know you’re a real good kid, and I know you don’t want to hurt him, but… Stiles loves easily, and if it really takes ten days to get those kids back to normal, he’s gonna love those babies to death by the time they’re teenagers again.”

            Derek swallows thickly and tunes in to Stiles, listens to him cooing at Isaac and trying to convince Erica to share the toy with Boyd.

            “I think he’s starting to love them already,” Derek says cautiously.

            “I think so too. It’s gonna hurt him when they change back.”

            “I don’t know how to stop that.”

            “Just… keep reminding him that this entire situation is temporary,” He says slowly, “that this isn’t his life, not really.”     

            Derek’s frown deepens. “It’s not his life _yet._ Some day…. Some day he’ll meet someone and they’ll have kids and he’ll get this.”

            He snorts. “If you think the only part of this life that Stiles wants is those babies, you’re dead wrong.”

            Derek tenses. “I don’t know what you mean.”

            “Let’s just say there are three people Stiles would leave in the middle of the night and miss a major test for. Scott, Lydia, and you.”

            Derek shakes his head. “No way. Stiles would do anything for any member of the pack.”

            “Yeah, probably. But he’d complain the whole time. And he certainly wouldn’t agree to stay with them for ten days without even being asked.”

            Derek unlocks his car and nearly drops his keys. “I don’t—can we just put the car seats in?”

            He feels the Sheriff staring at him and he grinds his teeth and starts trying to maneuver the seat into his Toyota.

            “I have two different speeches planned and I’m not actually sure which one I should be giving you right now, so I’m gonna give parts of each.”

            Derek looks at Stiles’ dad nervously.

            “Stiles has dealt with a lot of rejection. So just let him down easy, alright? But if you don’t plan on letting him down at all, which I’m starting to question, you better be good to him. If you break his heart… I’m a cop.  Just keep that in mind.”

            Derek nods once because he really has _no idea_ how to respond to that.       

            They hook up the car seats and then the Sheriff holds out his hand. Derek puts his hand in it and is abruptly tugged forward into a hug.

            “Relax, son. I know I’m probably not supposed to be saying this and I should be trying to scare you off but… I think you and Stiles could be real good for each other.”

            Derek’s throat is threatening to close up and his face must show his panic because the Sheriff gives him a worried look and says, “Breathe. What did I do? Talk to me?”

            Derek takes a deep breath and lets it out loudly and slowly. “I just—it’s a lot and it’s really fast. I woke up at 3:30 this morning with three kids and now Stiles and I are _living_ together and I have two baby car seats in the back of my car and you keep calling me son and—”

            “Hey, shh,” He shushes and makes slow inhale gestures and Derek takes another deep breath. “Listen to me, kid. You’re gonna be okay. This is temporary. In ten days, Stiles will be back with me and you’ll be back to being a child-free bachelor. And I’m sorry if I’ve been upsetting you.”

            Derek shakes his head and sighs, runs his hand down his face. “You’re right, you’re right. I’m just—” He hears wailing start from his loft and Stiles goes “Shit, shit, c’mere, let me kiss it better.”

            “I need to go. Stiles needs another set of hands, amateur or not.”

            The Sheriff smiles. “You give me a call if you need anything, okay? If this gets to be too much or anything.”

            Derek nods and then locks his car, offering a shaky smile and turns back to his loft.

            _Ten days._ He can do this.

_*          *          *_

            “Erica, stop that, _right now,”_ Stiles hisses, shifting Isaac in his arm and racing across the aisle in Target to grab Erica’s hand and try to tug her away from the large pile of stuffed monkeys she was trying to tip over.

            She growls at Stiles and her nails sharpen. Derek flashes his eyes and bares his teeth at her, letting a low grumble come from his chest. “ _Absolutely not,”_ he snarls between his teeth.

            Her claws retract and her eyes go back to brown. Her lower lip quivers and Stiles sighs, runs his fingers through her hair. “Do you want me to buy you a monkey sweetie?”

            She nods and he picks one up and, reaches for their cart as she wails, “No! This one!” And grabs a different monkey.

            “Alright,” Stiles agrees, taking the monkey and putting it in the cart. Boyd, sitting in the seat of the cart because walking on one-year-old legs around an entire store is too much. Stiles and Derek pass Isaac back and forth whenever Stiles’ arms get tired or he just wants to switch and push the cart.

            Said cart is now full of diapers, bibs, pacifiers, onesies, footsies, sippy cups, Enfamil, bottles, cereal, laundry detergent, and a large pack-and-play.

            Derek is going to go broke.

            Erica tugs the hem of Stiles’ shirt. “Juice,” She says.

            “Crap,” Stiles says. “I forgot to get juice boxes. We’ll go get them, you go start checking out. I’ll find you in a bit.”

            Derek nods and starts pushing the cart into a line. As soon as Stiles is out of sight, however, Boyd lets out a distressed whimper.

            Oh no.

            Derek can still hear Stiles’ heart and his voice murmuring things to Isaac and Erica, but Boyd is far too young to be able to tune into someone’s specific sounds and he probably _can’t_ pick Stiles out of the group.

            “Shh,” He says nervously. “Shh, I’m here.”

            Boyd lets out a loud wail and a few heads turn in Derek’s direction.  He carefully lifts him out of the seat and puts him on his hip and starts wiggling around. “Shh, shh, you’re okay, Boyd. Shh. We’ll go home soon, everything will be okay. Shh. I’ve got you.”

            The woman in front of Derek in line turns around and smiles. “New Daddy?”

            Derek nods.

            “I’m going to make a few assumptions, terribly rude, feel free to correct me if I’m wrong. But he doesn’t look mixed race to me, and you’re not wearing a wedding ring, so I’m going to assume he’s your girlfriend’s kid. She sent you here with him alone?”

            “Uh , no, um—” Boyd screeches and grabs a fistful of Derek’s hair and _pulls._

“Ow! Hey, knock that off! Come on, Boyd. Stiles will be back in a second, I _promise.”_

“What time did he get up this morning?”

            Derek looks at the girl blankly. “Around eight? He was up at 3:30 for a good while, though.”

            She nods and checks her phone. “It’s probably his naptime, that’s probably why he’s upset. Why wouldn’t your girlfriend keep him and give him a nap at home? Why would she send you with the kid in the first place? You’re clearly new at this. My sister has three kids and she is still hesitant to let her husband do anything alone with them. My name is Jessica, by the way.”

            “Derek,” he says, jiggling Boyd around, because he’s still wailing. “And that’s not actually—”

            “I can’t leave you alone for _two minutes?_ What are you going to do without me Monday?” Stiles demands, dropping a package of juice boxes into the cart, “Trade kids with me, come on.” He reaches an arm out, slides it around Boyd’s back. Boyd immediately turns to cling to his side long enough for Derek to cautiously pull Isaac against his chest.

            The instant Boyd is in Stiles’ arms, he relaxes, sniffling into Stiles’ neck.

            “I know, buddy, Daddy’s clueless,” He murmurs, rubbing his back. Erica starts reaching for the shelf beside the checkout and Stiles says, “Absolutely not. You got Nanners, you do not get junk food too.”

            She drops her hand and Derek raises an eyebrow. “Nanners?”

            “The stuffed monkey,” He says, glancing up and seeing the woman in front of him facing Derek and looking a little surprised. “Oh, sorry, am I interrupting? My bad.”

            “Stiles, this is Jessica. Her sister has three kids, so she wanted to give me some advice.”

            “Ah,” Stiles says, readjusting Boyd on his hip. “Nice to meet you.”

            “You too.” She looks at Derek. “I was wrong. Not your girlfriend’s kid, then. You and your boyfriend adopted. That’s great!”

            Derek opens his mouth to correct her and then realized they had no explanation and that seemed like the most realistic one. He just smiles at her as if to say _you got me._

“Actually, we’re just babysitting,” Stiles says, catching the bink as it falls from Isaac’s mouth, pressing it back in. “These are my cousins. My aunt and uncle had to go away for a little while.”

            Derek blinks and wonders when the hell Stiles came up with that story.

            “Yeah, it’s temporary. I don’t know _why_ they thought I’d be the best person to leave them with, but they’re so cute, I just couldn’t resist,” He coos at Isaac.

            “Daddy,” Erica says, tugging at Stiles’ shirt. “I’m hungry.”

            Stiles looks guiltily at Jessica. Her eyebrows are raised.

            “We’ll be going home soon, sweetie,” He says. “Just let us finish up here, okay?” He offers Jessica a small smile. “Did I say _cousins?_ Only Boyd here is my cousin. These two are ours.”

            “Mmhmm,” She murmurs, turning away and paying the cashier, grabbing her bags and leaving.    

            Derek arches his eyebrow at Stiles. “The cousins thing would be a good idea if she didn’t call you Daddy.”

            Stiles shrugs and starts picking things up from the cart to put them on the conveyer belt one-handed. “I didn’t tell her to call me that. And I don’t really care honestly. So everyone will go around town spreading rumors about the Sheriff’s son getting a boyfriend and adopting three kids overnight. In ten days, when this whole thing is over, I’ll tell everyone they were just visiting and they’ll have no evidence to the contrary.”

            Derek sighs.

            “Let’s stop and get lunch meat on our way back,” Stiles says and Derek puts the last of their stuff on the belt. “And what do you want to do for dinner tonight?”

            “Pizza?” Derek asks.

            “No, we’ll probably be eating take-out and pizza all week while I’m at school. I can’t gain the freshman fifteen before I even go away to college, Derek.  I’ll cook. Spaghetti?”

            Derek raises his eyebrows.

            “We can go to my house for dinner, I’ll cook and my dad can play with the kids.” He pauses. “Should we just stay at my house instead of the loft?”

            Derek shakes his head. “Your dad works too many different shifts. He would wake them up every time he came or went and they would probably keep him from getting any sleep.”

            Stiles sighs. “You’re right. I just feel bad. Leaving him alone.”

            “You’ll be leaving him for college anyway.”

            Stiles lets out a long breath. “Yeah, I guess.”

            Stiles seems lost in his own head as they check out, get in the car, get lunch meat, and go back to Derek’s place. Stiles sets up the pack-and play beside the bed and makes Derek drag the couch over until it is right next to the foot of the bed. He puts the baby cradle part on the pack and play and smiles. “We can totally make this work,” He says confidently.

            Stiles leaves Derek with the kids to go get the things he’d need for spaghetti from his house—“I’m really proud of you for getting a real kitchen installed. Really, I am. Now you just need to start keeping food in the house and we’re set. And don’t stress. This is good practice for Monday. I’ll be home soon.”—and Derek feels close to a panic attack nearly immediately. Boyd smells like he needs a diaper change and Isaac doesn’t seem to like being put down. Erica is being good, though, sitting cross-legged on Derek’s bed and playing with her monkey, making murmuring noises under her breath as if she’s making up stories while she plays.

            Isaac makes a sad face and starts wailing and Derek checks the time. “Okay,” he mumbles, “I think you need another bottle. Let’s see if I can figure this out.”

            He’d watched Stiles do it enough times that he could probably figure it out. He took a premade bottle from the fridge, took off the lid, and stuck it in the microwave for fifteen seconds and tests it on his wrist. He thinks Stiles heats it up for longer, maybe, but he doesn’t want to risk burning him, so he shakes it forcefully again—Stiles had mentioned something about hot spots being dangerous—and then  drapes a burp cloth over Isaac’s chest and puts the bottle in his mouth.

            He relaxes instantly and starts drinking. Derek lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. So far so good.

            Boyd gets up and starts running across the room but stumbles, stubs his toe, falls, and starts wailing.

            “Shit!” Derek exclaims, pulling the bottle from Isaac’s mouth. He sticks the bottle on the table and puts Isaac in the seat attached to the Pack and Play and darts across the room. He carefully picks Boyd up and sits down at the kitchen table. His toe is bleeding, but it isn’t severe. Just in case, Derek leeches the pain away and murmurs soothing things to him until he stops crying.

            Isaac is screeching at the top of his lungs by the time Boyd is settled and Erica looks nervous.

            Derek takes one of the stuffed toys Stiles insisted would be necessary and puts Boyd and the toy in the pack-and-play. He resumes feeding Isaac, sitting beside Erica and trying to be reassuring.

            Isaac has finished his bottle and Derek is working a burp out of him when Stiles flails inside, hurrying with full arms to drop things onto the table. “Hey, sorry it took me so long, I hit every red light and my nosy old neighbor with insomnia was getting her mail when I pulled up and she wanted to know why I left in the middle of the night last night and why I’m just getting back now, if everything is okay— _is_ everything okay?”

            Derek nods. “Boyd needs a diaper change. And a nap, I think. I think they all do.”

            “But, hey, you survived. You want to cook while I put them down for a nap?”

            “Sure,” Derek says, passing Isaac to him.  He notes that it’s getting easier to handle the babies. Maybe dealing with them while Stiles is in school won’t be so bad after all.

            Derek begins boiling water while Stiles coos and jiggles Isaac in circles and saying, “There we go, close your eyes, go to sleep, Stiles gotcha. You’re alright.”

            By the time Derek is starting on the sauce, Stiles has already gotten all three down for a nap.

            Stiles begins preparing more bottles as Derek cooks, and by the time Erica comes into the kitchen, rubbing absently at her eyes with a fist, they are putting spaghetti in three bowls.

            “Hungry?” Stiles asks and she pats her belly and says “Hungy”

            Derek watches as Stiles cuts the small amount of spaghetti in a bowl into small pieces and pours milk into a sippy cup.

            Dinner is surprisingly uneventful, and after they finish eating, Stiles takes Erica to the bathroom, leaving Derek on his own. Boyd wakes up, then, crawling off the bed and over to Derek. 

            “Hungry?” Derek asks, just like Stiles, and Boyd nods. He tries to copy everything Stiles did, cuts the spaghetti into small bits and sticks it in the microwave long enough to heat it up. He pours milk into a cup, too, and sits it on the table before lifting Boyd and sitting him in front of it. To Derek’s horror, he reached out and squeezes the noodles between his index finger and thumb and lifts them up, shoving his hands toward his face, missing his mouth a little, and covering his entire face and shirt in red sauce.

            Derek, unsure what to do, quickly moves the bowl out of reach and stares at the toddler, hoping he doesn’t do anything messier.

            Stiles comes back, then, and goes “Oh boy.” He walks into the other room and returns with a packet of wet wipes. He takes one out and grabs Boyd’s hand in his, forcing the wipe over his palm and between his fingers before folding it in half and wiping it over his chin and cheeks.

            “You have to feed one year olds, Derek, they can’t do it themselves without making a colossal mess.”

            Isaac chooses that minute to start wailing and Derek crinkles his nose. “He pooped, I think.”

            Stiles sighs heavily. “I’ll take care of it so your precious nose doesn’t suffer. Feed him. Make sure he swallows what is in his mouth before giving him more.”

            He walks over and scoops up the baby and Derek sighed and stabbed some spaghetti.

*          *          *

            Stiles is humming nursery rhymes. He’s laying in Derek’s bed, with Erica curled up against his side and Boyd sleeping soundly on his chest. He’s running his long fingers through her hair, and Derek is walking in circles with Isaac in his arms, trying to soothe him to sleep.

            It takes about an hour before all the hearts in the room are steady. Stiles is asleep, too, by the end of the hour and it feels like Derek got punched in the gut. The house smells overwhelmingly familiar, like it did when his mother brought Cora home from the hospital and he was surrounded in family and love.

            He settles Isaac in the upper part of the Pack and Play, removes Boyd from Stiles’ chest and puts him in the bottom, and then he turns off the lights and settles into bed beside Stiles and Erica, knowing it’s only 9 o’clock and not caring.

*          *          *

            He flinches, hard, when a loud wail wakes him up at 2:30 that morning. Stiles cringes, too, and says, “You get him. Erica’s sleeping on me”

            Derek got up and picked up the screeching baby, trying to ignore the fact that his ears are _ringing_ and said “What do I do!”

            Stiles huffs. “Heat up a bottle.”

            Derek bounces the baby as he sticks the ready bottle into the microwave and prays he doesn’t go deaf.

            Once it’s ready, he shakes it hard and squeezes some on his wrist before shoving the nipple into Isaac’s mouth and sighing in relief when he quiets down immediately.

            “Shh,” Stiles is saying. “You’re okay. Isaac is just hungry, you’re okay, we’re all okay.”

            He goes in the other room and sees Stiles holding Boyd in the cradle of his arm while Erica presses her face into his shoulder. Both are making high-pitched unhappy noises.

            Isaac falls asleep after giving Derek a small burp and he settles him back down. He takes Boyd back from Stiles arm, because he’s asleep now too, and puts him back in the pack and play. He slides back into bed with a sigh. “You’re getting him next time,” He warns.

*          *          *

            Saturday is alarmingly easy. The babies wake up and Stiles gives them cereal while Derek gives Isaac a bottle and then Boyd and Isaac nap and Stiles reads to Erica. They wake up and have lunch and then the Sheriff comes over and spends some time with them.

            “He loves kids,” Stiles tells Derek as they take a breather to drink some coffee in the kitchen. “Can’t wait for me to give him grandchildren.” He snorts and Derek raises his eyebrows.

            “You’ll be a good father.”

            “Well, thanks, but I’m definitely not ready for that yet, or anytime soon.”

            “I don’t know, you seem pretty good at this.”

            Stiles shrugs, and Derek can’t help but stare at him for a minute, because Stiles is naturally so great with the babies, he can’t imagine him not doing this later. He knows Stile can see him staring in his peripheral vision, but he doesn’t turn to meet his gaze. He puts his mug down and says, “I better go help my dad.”

*          *          *

            “Stop that,” Stiles tugs Erica’s thumb back out of her mouth. “That’s an _extremely_ bad habit. I already told you that, missy.”

            Derek is trying not to panic, because he’s cooking dinner on Sunday night and Stiles is going to school tomorrow and Derek is going to be on his own _all day long._

“You’ll be fine, you know.” Stiles says, and he’s so close to Derek’s back, and Derek didn’t even hear him approach. He flinches, and expects Stiles to tease him, but he doesn’t. He’s staring at him with serious eyes. “I’m just a text away. I’ll keep my phone on vibrate all day. Just text me if you need me, okay. I’ll come home.”

            _Home._ The word hurt. _Home._ Stiles just called Derek’s house _home._

Derek gives him a thin-lipped smile. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll probably be fine. You’re right.”

            Stiles presses his hand between Derek’s shoulder blades and it’s alarmingly comforting.

            “You’ll be okay. You’re doing _great.”_

The words are half-whispered into his ear and then Stiles is pulling away, the warmth of his body leaving Derek’s back.

*          *          *

            “What time is it?” Derek moans as Stiles climbs over him to get off the bed.

            “Six fifteen. Your place is further from school than mine, I need to leave earlier.”

            Derek moans.

            He closes his eyes and flops into the warm spot on the bed that Stiles’ body left behind. Derek listens to him get dressed and then there’s a hand pressing against Derek’s bare shoulder, lips brushing his ear. “You’ll do great. Text me if you need me.”

            “Mm,” Derek mumbles, and it’s hard, so _hard_ to keep himself from turning and kissing Stiles goodbye. And that thought is terrifying. He presses his face deeper into the pillow and goes back to sleep.

*          *          *

            Derek is minutes away from a panic attack. Isaac spit up on him and Boyd has a diaper that smells like death and Erica keeps following him going “I bowwed” and “pway wif me” and Isaac and Boyd are both _wailing_ and Derek smells like _baby vomit_ and _he didn’t sign up for this._

He grabs his phone and sends a text to Stiles.

            I can’t do this.

            Less than thirty seconds later, his phone is lighting up with a message:  
            On my way.

            And Derek exhales in relief.

           

            Stiles bursts through the door and gags. “Jesus Christ.” He looks around and says, “Okay, first things first, go get changed. The spit up on your shirt is probably psyching you out the most right now and I need you to not look like you’re going to vomit, okay?”

            Derek handed Isaac to him and  yanks his shirt off, pulling a new one on over his head.

            “Okay, you change Isaac’s diaper, I’ll change Boyd’s.”

            And they do that, and then Stiles says, “Isaac must be hungry. When did you last feed him?”

            Derek looked at him helplessly. “I haven’t been watching the clock.”

            Stiles’ expression softens. “Hey,” He murmurs. “It’s okay.” He sticks a pacifier in Isaac’s mouth, and the shrieks turn to whimpers and then stop.

            “Alright,” Stiles says. “Look at that.”

            Derek grimaces. “I’m sorry I called you home for this. I probably could have handled it.”

            “No, that’s okay. It’s your first day on your own with them, I’m surprised you lasted this long, honestly. You did great, don’t worry about it. Tomorrow will be better.”

            Isaac fell asleep easily in Stiles’ arms, and Stiles puts him in the Pack and Play and then takes out his bag and begins working on homework while Derek sets Boyd down with Erica. They play with toy trucks and stuffed animals together while Derek flops onto the couch beside Stiles.

            “I’m making you miss a lot of school.”

            Stiles shrugs. “I can handle it.”

            “I’m sorry.”

            Stiles doesn’t even look up, just scoots over so his arm and pressed against Derek’s. “You have nothing to be sorry for. It’s fine. Really.”

            “No, it’s not fine. This isn’t your responsibility, it’s my fault. I’m the one pissed off the witch, I’m the one who should deal with the repercussions.”

            “You’re part of a pack, Derek. That means you don’t have to handle things alone.”

            “I know, but—”

            “No buts, okay? I’d rather help you with this than let you do it alone. You don’t have to suffer through things by yourself, okay?”

            Derek doesn’t know how to respond to that, so he just nods and picks up his book.

*          *          *

            They put the kids to bed and stay up later tonight, Derek watching TV with the sound down _very_ low—all three babies have werewolf hearing—and Stiles is sitting beside him, his feet on Derek’s coffee table, reading a study guide.

            Derek hears Stiles’ breathing start evening out and his pulse slowing as he falls asleep.

            “Stiles,” He starts to say, starting to tell him to go to bed, and then Stiles is slumping over, his head resting on Derek’s shoulder.

            Derek eases the packet out of Stiles’ hands and puts it on the coffee table with the rest of his school stuff, trying not to jostle him too much. He leans back against the couch and closes his eyes.

*          *          *

            Isaac’s crying woke him up a few hours later. Stiles was still on his shoulder, his arm now draped loosely over Derek’s torso. Derek had his cheek pressed against the top of Stiles’ head.

            They jumped apart at the noise and Stiles scrambled up and got Isaac, pressing a bink into his mouth and jiggling him. “Hurry up, go microwave a bottle. Try to do it fast so the others don’t wake up.”

            Derek rushed into the kitchen and heated up the bottle before shaking it viciously and handing it to Stiles. Stiles fed Isaac sitting on the couch, and Derek began putting his books into his bag for him. “So you don’t have to rush so much in the morning,” He says when Stiles gives him a funky look.

            It feels very warm and domestic, cleaning up while Stiles feeds a baby and they have two other babies in the bedroom. Once Isaac is fed and burped, Stiles puts him back in the Pack and Play and kicks free of his jeans before getting in bed. Derek does the same, shrugging out of his Henley and replacing it with a wife beater. He slides into bed beside Stiles, and is surprised when Stiles presses himself into Derek’s space, head on his shoulder, arms around his waist.

            “I’m gonna push Erica off the bed if I go back where I was,” He says. “Let me know if this makes you uncomfortable.”

            “Hang on,” Derek shifts his weight, tugs his arm out from where it had gotten squished under Stiles, and wraps it around his shoulders instead. “How’s this?”

            “Mm,” Stiles murmurs, pressing in closer.

            It is too easy to fall asleep like that.

*          *          *

            Derek doesn’t speak as Stiles climbs out of bed on Tuesday morning, just rolls into the warm spot he vacated and goes back to sleep.

            The day goes by much smoother than the previous one. No one throws up on him, which is a definite plus. Erica and Boyd are getting better at playing together, and he figured out how to remove the baby cradle from the top of the Pack and Play, so he uses it as a play pen when he knows he can’t chase them around. He sticks them in there with some toys and then feeds, burps, and changes Isaac. Then he puts all three down for a nap and cleans up the loft a little bit. When they wake, he makes some macaroni and cheese for lunch and then just let’s them play on his bed and around the loft as he spreads a blanket out on the floor to lay Isaac on and he spends some time cooing at him.

            He’s surprised when Stiles comes in, he didn’t realize it was time for school to end already.

            “Wow,” He says. “It looks great in here. I knew you could do it.”

            There is so much _pride_ in his face that Derek’s chest aches and he can’t breathe.

            He tugs Erica into a tight hug and then picks Boyd up and spins him a few times and then drops to the floor to coo at Isaac, his body a warm line up against the side of Derek’s.

            Isaac takes another nap about half an hour later, and Derek sets him in the Pack and Play and begins playing with Erica and Boyd while Stiles begins his homework. As he’s finishing up, he says, “So what are we doing for dinner?”

            They end up eating chicken nuggets and macaroni and cheese and Derek isn’t sure when he last ate food shaped like dinosaurs, but it’s _nice._

Derek is finding a lot of things about this life are nicer than he thought they could be.

*          *          *

            A finger digs into his ribs and Derek grunts. “I think we should switch sides of the bed,” Stiles says.

            “Huh?”

            “So I can get out in the morning.”

            Derek reached out and smacks absently at his phone until it lights up. “Stiles,” He mumbles. “It’s three a.m.”

            “I know. Switch sides with me, come on.”

            Derek groans loudly enough to let Stiles know he’s not pleased, but not loud enough to wake the babies.

            He picks Stiles up and holds him over his head while he shifts himself toward Erica, and then plops Stiles onto the bed beside him.

            “Holy shit,” Stiles says, breathless. “Sometimes I forget you’re a werewolf. And then you do stuff like _that.”_

“Go to sleep.”

            “Okay.”

            About two minutes passed and then Stile went, “Hey, Derek.”

            “If you don’t stop talking I will rip your tongue out of your mouth.”

            “Hey, I thought we were past the threats.”

            “It is _three in the morning._ You have to be up for school in three hours. Whatever you have to say can wait.”

            “But I’ll forget.”

            “What a shame.”

            “Sourwolf.”

            “ _Go to sleep.”_

*          *          *

            Derek somehow sleeps through Stiles getting ready in the morning. When Isaac gets him up at 7:15, there is a post-it stuck onto his cell phone

            _Sourwolf_

_I’m glad you stopped me last night. I get random bursts of insomnia sometimes and then I start saying weird sentimental stuff and it is awkward later. Let me know if you need me today. Good luck._

_-S_

He proceeds to spend the rest of the day wondering what weird sentimental thing Stiles was going to tell him last night if he hadn’t shushed him.

            When Stiles gets home, he’s yawning. He plops his bag on the floor and pries Isaac from Derek’s arms and lays down on the Derek’s bed, Isaac laying on his chest. Erica goes over and climbs up, tucking herself in the curve of his arm. Boyd points at the bed and grunts, so Derek picks him up and lets him crawl over and he fits himself into Stiles’ other side.

            “You alright?” Derek asks, standing at the foot of the bed with his eyebrows raised.

            “’m fine. Tired. Didn’t really sleep last night.”

            “Yeah, I know.”

            “Shut up. Either get into bed and nap with us or go away.”

            Derek snorts and heads into the other room. He cleans up, puts blankets and toys back in the Pack and Play and moves Stiles’ backpack from the middle of the floor to the corner. He cleans out all the used bottles and sets them aside for Stiles to make later. Then he takes the trash out, because the smell of dirty diapers is _really_ starting to get to him. When he returns, he goes to the bed and smiles, because Stiles and his betas are all sleeping soundly.

            Derek carefully eases Stiles’ sneakers off his feet and puts them in the corner, collecting the dirty clothes Stiles had left scattered this morning and tosses them into a laundry basket. He picks out Stiles’ white t-shirt—he knows you can’t mix darks and lights without turning everything gray but has never had to worry about that before, most of his clothes are dark—and then dumps the contents of his hamper into the basket. He carries it to the small area in the back he’d stuck a washer and drier in when he’d settled into the loft. He empties the basket into the washer and then finds all the baby clothes—the Sheriff had brought a few boxes of Stiles’ baby clothes over during his visit the other day. Stiles had smelled salty and sad as he’d looked through him, but he didn’t seem to mind dressing the babies in them.

            He orders pizza and vows to learn what to feed babies so he can start cooking instead.

            The proximity alarm goes off when the delivery guy gets too close and Derek quickly shuts it off, but there is wailing coming from the other room immediately.

            He hurries in and scoops Boyd up, puts him on his hip, and heads to open the door as Stiles begins jiggling Isaac.

            The delivery _girl—_ he wonders if this is the first time he’s ever seen a girl delivering  pizzas—smiles brightly at him when she sees the baby in his arm. “You got it, or you want me to carry it in?” She offers, and he’s surprised. Most people are terrified by the _idea_ of his loft, they don’t offer to come inside.

            “Uh, you can put it right on that table there, thank you.”

            She gives him another cheerful smile and comes in, putting the box onto the table.

            “He’s adorable,” She says, smiling hugely at Boyd. “Is he yours or are you babysitting?”

            Derek smiles. “I adopted him,” He says smoothly, because it isn’t a complete lie. He’s Isaac, Erica, and Boyd’s legal guardian now, until they turn eighteen.

            “That’s so wonderful. Hi buddy,” She bends a little, making herself level with Boyd. “How old is he?”

            “About a year,” Derek says.

            “Have you had him long?”

            “No, not really. It’s still quite the adjustment.”

            “I can imagine. You and your wife must be overjoyed.”

            “No wife,” Stiles says from the doorway and the girl jumps. Blinks in surprise when she sees the baby Stiles is cradling, the little girl twisted around his leg.

            “Oh, I’m sorry.” She says, flushing. “Partner.”

            “Stiles and I aren’t together,” Derek responds quickly. The last thing he needs is rumors that he’s dating the Sheriff’s underage son. Neither Derek or the Sheriff need that right now. People still give him dirty looks because of the Laura thing.

            “Oh,” She says again.

            Derek puts Boyd down on the couch and pulls his wallet out of his back pocket, offering the girl the cost of the pizza and a hefty tip.

             “Thank you!” She smiles again and reaches up to remove a pen from where it was tucked behind her ear. She goes over to the pizza box and scribbles something on it.

            “Your son is adorable,” she tells him.

            “Thank you,” He smiles at her as she walks out the door. Stiles snorts as Derek closes the door behind her.

            “She gave you her number.”

            Sure enough, in loopy handwriting across the box it says _Chloe (:_ with ten digits after it.

            “She did,” Derek agrees, staring at the number.

            “She was cute,” Stiles says, and there’s something a little bitter in his voice. “Once this is over, you should call her.”

            “She thinks I’m a dad. It’d be pretty hard to explain why my babies are missing and I now have a bunch of teenagers following me around.”

            Stiles didn’t respond to that, just put Isaac into the Pack and Play and went into the kitchen, returning with four plates and a knife. He cuts a piece of pizza in two, cuts those pieces into smaller ones and puts them on two plates. Then he puts one on a plate for himself and a plate for Derek. He lifts Erica onto a chair and puts the pizza and a fork in front of her. He sits Boyd on his lap and alternates feeding him bites and chewing on his own pizza. Derek sits down and wonders what he did wrong, why he feels so _guilty._

Stiles doesn’t speak all throughout dinner.

*          *          *

            “Will you at least tell me what I did wrong?”

            Derek is _tired,_ being shut out by Stiles is somehow so much worse than the endless chatter he’s gotten alarmingly used to.

            “You didn’t _do_ anything,” Stiles says, and he sounds tired too.

            “Is it because the pizza girl gave me her number? Because it’s not like I asked for that.”

            Stiles rolls his eyes. “Why would that bother me? We aren’t together.”

            “Is _that_ what’s bothering you? That I told her we aren’t together? Because in case you haven’t notices, Stiles, _we’re not.”_

            “I’m not mad at you, oh my god.”

            “You haven’t spoken to me for hours.”

            “It’s not you, okay?”

            Derek feels his eyebrows furor and he wants to smack himself. “What’s wrong?”

            He sighs. “My dad called when I was leaving school.”

            “Is everything okay?”

            “He just pointed out that I’m, maybe, getting too attached. These babies are temporary, you know? And then they’re going to turn back into someone who hates me, someone who acts like I’m not in the room, and someone who once knocked me unconscious with my own car part once. And I’m going to miss _these_ people. The little ones who love me and cling to me and feel safe near me.”

            Derek frowns, because he hadn’t really thought about that. He’s not a baby person, he doesn’t _like_ kids.

            But he kind of really likes _these_ kids.

            He’s screwed.

*          *          *

            Thursday is different. Derek has pretty successfully mastered taking care of the three on his own—Erica is pretty cooperative now, and she doesn’t cause him much trouble at all—but his conversation with Stiles from the previous night is a constant weight on his shoulders.

            He realizes for the first time how easy his smiles are coming, how the tight vice that has gripped his heart since the fire has loosened, how he feels like he could spend every day doing this for the rest of his life.

            He claps for Erica when she poops in the toilet for him, something he thinks she’s only ever done for Stiles, and holds her up while she washes her hands in the sink. He untangles her blonde ringlets for the first time and pulls them up into pigtails with the hair ties Erica left laying around before she turned into a baby. He does tummy time with Isaac, because he read that it is important that small babies spend some time on their stomachs so they can strengthen their necks and eventually lift their heads. He starts showing Boyd how to guide food into his own mouth _without_ covering his face in it.

            Stiles comes home that afternoon and Erica runs to his side, tugs on his pants and says “Dada, look!” and points at her hair.

            Stiles’ eyes widen and he drops to his knees and pulls her against his chest in a tight hug.

            “You look beautiful, baby girl,” He tells her, and his voice is thick and Derek’s chest burns.

            When they are putting the kids to bed that night, Derek says, “Night-night, sweetie” to Erica and she goes “Daddy” and Derek picks her back up, holds her close, and if he cries, no one has to know.

            “We are so attached,” Stiles says after the babies are asleep. He has a textbook open in his lap and Derek has the TV on but muted and an unopened book in his hand.

            “I know,” Derek mumbles.

            “What are we going to do? When they’re teenagers again? I know everyone says they grow up fast, but most people get more than _seven to ten days.”_

Derek swallows thickly. “Do you think they’ll remember this?”

            “I don’t know,” Stiles says. “I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know. I don’t know _anything_ and it’s driving me _crazy.”_

Derek doesn’t think before wrapping his arm around Stiles’ shoulders, it felt so natural, so _right._ And Stiles leans into his side, resting his head on his shoulder. “I’m scared.”

            “Me, too.” Derek sighed heavily. “I’ve been less terrified when literally fighting for my life.”

            “Same,” Stiles says. “And now my dad has officially been proven correct. Again.”

            Derek opens his mouth, planning on saying _I’m sorry I dragged you into this_ but Stiles snaps “If you apologize for something that _isn’t your fault_ again I am going to punch you in the mouth.”

            Derek smirks. “I think that would end worse for you than it would for me.”

            Stiles snorts. “Not the point, my friend.”

            There is a pause, and then Stiles says, lowly, “I think you should try dating again. Chloe seemed nice. And very into you.”

            Derek snorts, “And very human and most likely oblivious. I really can’t drag anyone else into this.”

            “I know it’s a mess. Once things calm down, though, you should try to put yourself out there. I think you could find someone great to make you happy.”

            _I’ve been happier the last few days than I have been in years._

“I need to have my priorities straight, Stiles, and a relationship is not top priority.”

            “I get that. What, exactly, is that priority right now?”

            “My pack. I need to get Erica, Boyd, and Isaac back to their full size and make sure they are completely under control. Then I need to make sure the Hale pack gets some integrity back. Before, we were one of the most respectable packs around. No one dared to threaten us. I need to try to get that back. It’ll be nearly impossible though. No one is intimidated by the Hale boy who lost everyone he loved.”

            Stiles slides in closer, puts a hand on Derek’s knee. “I don’t know. You’re pretty intimidating. All we have to do is get word out that Derek Hale is an excellent alpha who is kicking ass and taking names.”

            “The pack is getting stronger. We have a human with a spark. That helps a lot. I’m getting a little better at this, I think. Scott stopped completely hating me. If we can get the others to stop encroaching on my land, we should be good.”

            “You can do it,” Stiles says around an enormous yawn. “I believe in you.”

            Derek smiles. “Thanks. Come on, let’s go to bed.”

            Exhaustion has sunk deep into his bones and he steps out of his jeans and peels his shirt off and climbs into bed, smiling at the roof when Stiles does the same and immediately presses against him, head on his chest, arm around his waist. “G’night, Der.”

            Derek just hummed and closed his eyes.

*          *          *

            “Hey. Psst. Let me up.”

            Derek wakes up and realizes he’s got his arm locked tight around Stiles’ waist, and Stiles is trying to climb out of the bed. Derek drops his arm, but Stiles doesn’t move. Derek raises an eyebrow.

            “Today is the seventh day.”

            “Oh.” Derek’s stomach drops a little. Any time now, his babies could turn into teenagers.

            “Should I stay home?”

            Derek shakes his head. “Go to school. If something changes and they start growing or something, I’ll let you know. You’ve missed enough school.”

            “Okay, but _do not_ hesitate to text me if _anything_ out of the ordinary happens.”

            Derek nods. “Go, get ready. I’ll talk to you later.”

 

            Nothing out of the ordinary happens. Derek waits for them to start changing shape or size, but nothing happens. They seem like completely normal babies.

            They eat dinner later that night, spending more time just playing with the kids.

            “We don’t have much time left with them,” Stiles says. “They could be teenagers when we wake up tomorrow.”

            Stiles spends every minute with them until they’re all asleep for the night, then he begins doing some homework. Derek watches him do calculus and tries to remember how to do any of it. When they fall into bed at midnight, Stiles immediately snuggles into Derek again, and Derek breathes in the scent of family and pack and he has never felt so safe and loved in his entire life.

*          *          *

            Neither of them spend a single minute sitting on the actual couch that Saturday. They are on the floor with the babies the entire day. Neither of them want to cook. They ordered Chinese this time. The delivery guy didn’t hit on either of them.

            It is a great day, and Derek never wants it to end.

*          *          *

            Sunday is much the same, except the Sheriff comes over and brings a cake. Written on the icing in cursive is: _Hang in there._ It has fondant monkeys on it. Stiles laughs until he cries when he sees it. Derek just smiles a little.

            He spends the entire day eyeing up the babies. That night he calls Deaton.

            “It’s the ninth day,” he says nervously.

            “Stop that,” Stiles says in the background.  Derek turns to see him tugging Erica’s thumb out of her mouth. “Bad habit.”

            “Dada,” She says and it sounds whiny and just like the Erica he knows. Derek’s chest throbs.

            “I suspect the witch used some strong magic and it will last the full two hundred forty hours. They will likely remain babies tomorrow, but will wake up Tuesday morning as teenagers again. Make sure they aren’t sleeping in cribs tomorrow night.”

            Derek nods. “Okay. Thank you.”

            “Of course.”

            “Wait. Do you think they’ll have any memory of this week?”

            There is a long pause. “There is no way to know for sure until they are back and able to speak for themselves. It may just feel like distant childhood memories to them.”

            “Oh.” Derek says. “Well, thank you.”

            Deaton hands up and Derek puts the phone down. One more day. Just one more day.

*          *          *

            “You cannot seriously expect me to go to school today.”

            “Yes, I can.”

            “Our babies are going to be turning into teenagers within the next twenty four hours and we have no clue when and you want me to go sit in _school_ instead of being here?”

            “Stiles. When they turn back, they might just be normal Erica, Boyd, and Isaac. They might have the exact same feelings toward you they had before they changed.”

            “So they won’t be disappointed, who cares? I _will.”_

“I’ll let you know if I think anything is going to happen, but Deaton thinks it’ll be the time they changed to babies, which was in the middle of the night.”

            Stiles chews his lip thoughtfully. “Fine,” He huffs. “But if I miss this, Derek Hale, I swear to god—”

            “Go to school.”

            He sticks his tongue out and grabs his bag, kissing each baby on the head and giving Derek a sad smile before leaving.

            Derek closes his eyes as the door shuts behind him and sighs.

 

            “Please tell me we still have babies.” Stiles says as a greeting as he comes through the door.

            “We still have babies.”

            “Oh, thank god.”

            Stiles rushes over and pulls Erica into one arm and Boyd into the other, squeezing them tight and getting to his feet, spinning them around. They both giggle delightedly and Derek feels heat behind his eyes. This is the last time Stiles will ever come home to these babies. One day he’ll come home to a lovely house and a beautiful spouse and their babies and he will do this exact thing and _Derek won’t be there to see it._

After he puts them down he scoops Isaac up and holds him up like Simba in _The Lion King_. Derek rolls his eyes. When he puts him down, he tugs Derek into a hug. Derek stiffens and then wraps his arms around Stiles, pulls him close.

            When they let each other go, they spend the rest of the night playing with their babies.

            They put all three of them to bed on the floor that night, because if they grow in the middle of the night, they’ll be squished in a Pack and Play or falling off Derek’s bed. Derek leaves the clothes they’d been in the night they changed into babies folded up by each of their feet.

            Stiles gets into bed before Derek, and he’s curled into a ball. He looks and smells sad. Derek gets into bed and wraps himself around Stiles, holding him against his chest.

            “I’m going to miss them, too,” Derek whispered. “But this has to happen. It wouldn’t be fair if we kept them trapped in babies’ bodies.”

            “I know that.”

            “Goodnight, Stiles.”

            “Night, Der.”

*          *          *

            “Derek? Isaac’s voice is small and Derek lurches up, away from Stiles and to his feet, the blankets coming with him. Stiles is up and off the bed a split second later.

            “Isaac. Are you okay?”

            Stiles fumbles in the dark and flips the light on. Derek blinks against the harsh brightness. Isaac is in the doorway, wearing the clothes Derek had left out for him.

            Isaac nods, but he looks sad. Erica appears behind him, Boyd close behind her. They shuffle into the room. Erica has the top of her thumb in her mouth.

            Stiles moves toward her and wraps his fingers around her wrist, tugs gently. “What did I tell you about this,” He says weakly, his voice thick with tears.

            She moves so swiftly Derek misses the actual movement, but she’s suddenly hugging Stiles tight, and they’re both crying.

            Isaac is crying then, too, and moving toward Derek. Derek grabs him into a hug. He reaches out a hand for Boyd, tries to pull him in, but Boyd just shakes his head. Derek settles for squeezing his hand. He notices that Stiles is holding Boyd’s other hand.

*          *          *

            They remember everything. They spend about three hours sitting in the family room, twisted together, their fingers, arms, feet, everything. And they talk and lean on each other and just rely on one another for comfort until they all end up asleep like that.

            None of them go to school that Tuesday. They all sleep until 11:30 and then Derek makes breakfast while Stiles moves around the house, gathering his clothes from where they’ve made their way into Derek’s hamper and dresser and _everywhere_ and putting them in the bag his dad had brought them in.

            He tosses his toothbrush and razor into his bag and says, “I guess I’d better head home” while Derek is in the process of flipping a pancake. He misses and gets batter all over the stove. He curses and turns the burner off to let it cool and starts trying to scrape the pancake batter off before giving up and wiping it down with a sponge, the water making loud sizzling noises on the hot burner.

            “At least stay for breakfast,” Derek says, but Stiles shakes his head.

            “I’ve left my dad for long enough. And I’m not really needed here anymore. I probably should have gone back after the third or fourth day when you figured out how to take care of them on your own. Just…. Don’t be strangers, okay? All of you are more than welcome at the Stilinski house.”

            “Same to you,” Derek says and it feels so _wrong._ This is not how this should end. But he lets Stiles walk out the door anyway.

*          *          *

            He makes it four days. Four days of watching Erica put her thumb in her mouth and then slowly remove it and look sad. Four days of watching Isaac look like he’s going to cry randomly. Four days of seeing Boyd look around like something’s missing. Because something _is_ missing. Well, some _one._

The kids aren’t going back to school this week, they’re going back the next one, so they’ve been killing time at the loft and Derek is sick of seeing them so sad. So he texts Scott and tells him to get Stiles’ car keys without him noticing, that Derek will give him a ride home. Scott’s reply is completely unexpected.

            _Okay. This better fix things. I’m so sick of seeing him walk around looking like someone just killed his puppy._

So it’s affected him too.

           

            Derek leans on the Camaro as he waits for Stiles to come out of school. The bell rang a few minutes ago, he should be here any second now…

            Stiles comes outside, and there are dark circles under his eyes and his hair looks like he’s been running his hands through it.

            His eyes land on Derek and widen. Derek smiles.

            Stiles heads over to him quickly and then says, “Hey, what are you doing here?”

            “I need to talk to you,” Derek says. “Let’s go for a ride,” He lifts himself off the side of the car and Stiles says, “I’ll follow you. Can’t leave the jeep here.”

            “No,” Derek says. “Scott’s got it. Get in the car.”

            Stiles pats his pockets and sighs. “Damn werewolves,” He mumbles as he gets in Derek’s car.

            Derek takes him to a pizza place and they don’t speak as they walk in and sit down.

            “I need you to come back,” Derek says without any preamble.

            “What?”

            “The last few days have been terrible. For me, for Isaac, for Erica, for Boyd, and according to Scott, for you, too. Why are we putting ourselves through this?”

            Stiles puts his heads in his hands. “I was there because you needed me. You don’t need me anymore—”

            “Bullshit.”

            He lifts his head. “I’m sorry?”

            “That’s complete bullshit. Of course we still need you. We _always_ need you. _I_ need you.”

            Stiles’ heart starts racing. “I’m not sure I understand.”

            Derek reaches out, laces their fingers together. “The days I spent living with you and raising those babies were the best days of my life,” He says. “Up until fourteen days ago, I hadn’t even _considered_ wanting kids. But now I think I might. If I’m having them with you.”

            It’s a brave confession, and Derek’s heart is racing. Stiles is in _high school._ This is way too forward, too serious, too sudden.

            Stiles lets out a laugh and says, “Oh, thank God.” He leans forward, squeezes Derek’s fingers. “Ten days. It took me ten days to fall completely in love with you.”

            Derek doesn’t think, just reaches out and grabs the front of Stiles’ shirt and hauls him in and kisses him. Stiles’ hands are immediately in Derek’s hair, and they are making out stretched over a table in a public restaurant.

            A throat clears and they lurch apart.

            “Thought you two weren’t together.”

            Chloe, the pizza delivery girl, is standing there with a notepad and pen, smirking.

            “We are now,” Derek says confidently, and Stiles lets out a happy laugh and smiles hugely at him.

            Chloe smiles, too. “What can I get you?”

*          *          *

            Derek hale never liked kids, but now when he’s in the supermarket and there’s a baby screaming in the woman’s shopping cart behind him, he smiles, because he understands, now. He understands what it’s like to love someone enough to want to raise babies with them. Knows what it’s like to love someone so small and so innocent.

            Sometimes he turns around and offers the woman a smile and says “New mommy?” And offers some advice.

            “Do you have kids?” She’ll ask.

            He’ll smile again and say, “Not yet. But I have some experience.”

**Author's Note:**

> Everything I know about babies comes from watching my mom, brother, and sister-in-law take care of my niece, who, at the time I began this, was baby Isaac's age. She's now six months old, so if the further you got into the fic, the more inaccurate things became about the baby, it was because I was getting used to a six-month old not, a four month old or however old I approximately made Isaac.


End file.
